


Wings of Rebellion

by Batmanssleeves



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Gen, Guys. he can borrow Arsene's WINGS, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 17:57:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18526669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batmanssleeves/pseuds/Batmanssleeves
Summary: It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of captivity.When Akira heard that echoing through his mind, he didn't think it was supposed to be takenliterally.





	Wings of Rebellion

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's in a wingfic mood, and is sorely disappointed by the lack of it in this fandom. I mean come on, y'all. We as a society need to do better. on a completely related note, _GUYS JOKER IS IN SMASH THIS IS NOT A DRILL I DON’T EVEN GO HERE BUT HE CAN BORROW ARSENE’S W I N G S WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THIS_

When Akira finally gets back to Leblanc that night, he can’t really focus on anything past his exhaustion, collapsing face-first into the bed. He feels more spent than he ever has been in his life, but his mind is racing at the speed of light just trying to process everything he experienced today.

Most of him wishes the castle was just some weird anxiety-daydream fuelled by everything that’s been piling onto his mind over the past few months, but a small voice in his mind won’t stop reminding Akira of how the heavy feeling of foreboding that has been constricting his lungs ever since he heard those screams late at night back home never truly went away until he felt those blue flames wash over him.

He may feel physically exhausted, but Akira can say with full confidence that he’s never felt so _free_.

 

* * *

 

It’s a few days later that he and his classmate return to the mysterious castle masquerading as their school, and despite his laidback appearance Akira is just as eager as Sakamoto is to get in; although maybe for different reasons. The vulgar boy is almost bouncing off the walls with nervous energy which mostly manifests through him tapping his feet and stretching his legs.

Clearly this Kamoshida guy is bad news from the way Sakamoto can’t keep the venom out of his voice every time he spits the teacher’s name out of his mouth like a curse word, and Sakamoto is itching to dig into the origins of the castle and bring it crashing down (hopefully alongside the ego of the so called “king of the castle”)

Akira, admittedly, has different motives for coming back. He can’t get the almost weightless feeling out of his head; the brief meeting he had with Arsene left him craving the thrill of the power thrumming just beneath his skin, and walking away from the castle left him feeling sore and drained. His muscles were stiff as if he had spent the entire day pushing his limits at the gym, and while some simple stretches helped him ease the discomfort in his arms and legs, his back was aching in a place he couldn’t quite define. It felt like a phantom pain just past his shoulder blades, but no matter which way he contorted his body he couldn’t seem to reach the muscles that were causing him trouble. So that ache remains, like a mysterious itch he can’t scratch, and Akira hopes that returning to that state where power coursed through his veins would be a remedy for his tired body.

In a quick flash of blue fire Akira is clad in the black ensemble once more, and the comforting presence of Arsene has returned to his mind. The material his dark clothing is made out of doesn’t seem like the most freeing clothing meant for lots of movement, but it fits him like a second skin. Akira immediately starts feeling lighter, his muscles filling with an almost unnatural energy.

Sakamoto lets out a low whistle and begins to admire the outfit, commenting on how that was a gentleman thief outfit if he’s ever seen one. Akira’s about to make a smug comment about the clear envy on Sakamoto’s face when he notices the other boy’s attention has shifted to something just behind him, eyes wide with shock.

“Dude…” the other boy says, breathless. “Did you have _those_ last time?”

Akira’s comment gets stuck in his throat when he turns his head to look over his shoulder and doesn’t see the weird vortex-like entrance to the real world, his vision blocked by a big black wall of _something_ behind him. Reaching his hands back, Akira is confused to feel something soft underneath his gloves—but is even more confused when he feels the pressure being placed on his body too, coming from just beyond his back.

“Are these… wings?” Akira mutters, mostly to himself, as he makes the conscious effort to stretch the muscles in his back that have been aching since his first day of school. He feels a cool breeze shuffling his hair around as he flaps the large appendages protruding from his shoulder blades and is pleasantly surprised to feel the leaden sensation vanishing as if he was stretching his arms after a particularly deep sleep. Akira flaps a bit harder and feels his feet lifting off the ground.

The wings are humongous, extending just past his armspan when stretched out. The feathers are fluffy and downy just like his hair, and shine with obvious signs of meticulous care. (Which is odd, as he’s never seen them before today. But he supposes this is setting an example for how he should keep them looking) When the light hits them, it becomes apparent that the feathers are a very dark red color, bordering black.

The exhilarated laugh that bubbles out of his throat as he flies around the outside of the castle is only bolstered by the deep, satisfied chuckles echoing through his mind from his persona.

* * *

 

By the time they stumble back into the real world, Sakamoto looking equally as drained as Akira felt after summoning Arsene for the first time, it is almost dark out in Aoyama-Itchome. Akira wonders if he looked as cool as his new friend did while awakening his persona, and gets reassured that he definitely did when Ryuji laments light-heartedly into his beef bowl about how sure it doesn’t fit with the pirate aesthetic, but how come Akira was the only one to get sick wings??

Akira hears whispered promises of more strength just out of his reach alongside the rustling of chains echoing in his head when Ryuji resolves to take Kamoshida down, as well as the now unmistakeable pressure rising just by his shoulder blades where his wings manifested in the metaverse. It isn’t until he’s parted ways with Ryuji and reaches the cafe that the pressure spikes into a sharp, blinding pain, and he collapses to his knees.

The pain slices down his back and his nerves burn with white-hot intensity not unlike that of the blue flames he and Ryuji were surrounded by during their awakenings. Only this time the flames don’t wash over and invigorate his brain and body; they bring him crashing down to the dusty floorboards of the attic, delirious with pain. The blinding, suffocating feeling continues for what feels like hours but can only be minutes, and it isn’t until the excruciating sensation subsides that Akira realizes he is facedown on the floor, breathing heavily. His glasses dig into his face, and he rips them off.

He takes a few seconds to reorient himself as the static recedes from his mind with a little help from Arsene’s wordless reassurances. The first thing he feels when his focus returns is the sticky warmth spreading across his back. Sitting up, he reaches his hand underneath his blazer and turtleneck only to find his palm slick with bright red blood.

 _What the hell was that_ , he thinks to himself. _The Chariot_ , his brain supplies helpfully, in an unending loop of meaningless feedback.

Feeling sick he stumbles to his feet and down the stairs to the bathroom. Beneath the dark blazer, his white turtleneck is completely unsalvageable—the bloodstain has spread across the entire back of the pure white garment, already drying to a dark brown at the edges. _Luckily I have a spare uniform_ , Akira thinks to himself as he inspects his back in the mirror. Blood has stopped flowing from the mysterious wounds, and he runs a damp towel over then until all the blood is gone and he can see them clearly. They have completely scabbed over, as if they hadn’t been inflicted on him only minutes ago.

He’s more than a little scared about whatever episode he just had, but all his scattered mind can think about now is the relief that the old bathhouse across from Leblanc has barely enough patrons for him to worry about people from his school finding out about and gossiping about the “strange scars” the transfer student has on his back.

(Although, he’s sure whatever crazy reasoning the rumor mongers in his school would cook up to explain them would be a lot more believable than the skin on his back splitting on its own.)

* * *

 

He finds himself in the same situation not even a week later after discussing with Morgana about whether or not he was human. This time, he’s left with two bone-hard bumps sticking out of his sore back near his shoulder blades, and _The Magician_ pulsing in his head with the erratic timing of his heart.

(Briefly, he wonders why nothing happened when he heard the chains and _The Fool_ arcana running through his mind in the velvet room, but then again working with Igor somehow felt more like he was being chained back to the very things he aimed to break free from)

* * *

  
Akira really hopes Takamaki can’t see the apprehension that crops up on his face when the chains began to echo in his mind again. Don’t get him wrong—Akira is so glad that he isn’t alone anymore after moving from his hometown. He had come to Tokyo fully expecting to spend the year with his head down and his heart empty, but less than two weeks in to the school year and with three friends in similar circumstances by his side, he was ecstatic. But based on the growing weight on his back and the reaction that had occurred after meeting the first two phantom thieves, he needed to get home, and _fast_. (And judging by Morgana’s urgent nudging from the bag slung over his shoulder, the Magician agreed.)

Dropping his bag, Morgana and all at the entrance to the cafe, he manages to get to his room and yank off his shirt before the pain hits him. The cool air caresses his feverish skin as his back begins to split once more, this time feeling so much deeper than it was the first time. He can hear the sickly sounds of bones cracking over his harsh breaths and sobs, and when the agony comes to a peak he tries to muffle his screams into his hand, biting down onto the muscle on the edge of his palm.

 _The Lovers The Lovers The Lovers_ is an infinite loop in his mind, answering the question he hadn’t even asked about his new companion.

His muscles feel weak as he tries to drag himself off the floor, only to be hit with another wave of excruciating pain as something drags its way out of his back, bones snapping into place. After the first two times Akira and Morgana had theorized that his wings were somehow manifesting outside of the metaverse, but he wasn’t expecting it to be so _horrifying_.

The pain crashes over him in waves radiating from the white-hot points of bone protruding from his skin, denying Akira's lungs the oxygen they so desperately need. 

When the cleaving agony finally passes, he’s left shivering and spasming with leftover sparks of pain, slow but deliberate breaths passing through his lungs as he attempts to fill them back up to a regular capacity. It feels like a burning hand is gripping his chest, strangling him from the inside. Morgana makes it up to the top of the stairs just as the worst passes and pauses as he watches Akira try to regain his bearings.

“Hey, Akira” he says, his voice softer than Akira’s ever heard it. “I think they’re finally out for good.”

Akira wants to rejoice, filled with relief that he’s never going to have to go through that ever again, but his head is spinning and he feels sick with fever. His back is dripping once again, but he can’t tell if its blood, sweat, or a mix of the two.

Almost a full hour has passed before Akira can pull himself up off the creaky floorboards, staring non-comprehendingly at the dark outline underneath him as it slowly fades. The wings sticking out of his back are dripping with a strange mixture of blood and a viscous black substance, but as the drops hit the floor they vanish almost instantly. The sludge is reminiscent of the ooze that seeps from shadows as they dissolve from shiny armoured knights to the colourful monsters Akira invites into his mind. He gingerly shakes the small wings on his back, wincing as the tender muscles pull and watching as splatters of darkness hit his surroundings. They aren’t as big as they were back in the palace, but having them makes him feel more complete, as if he was missing a piece of himself every time he left them behind in the other realm.

Gathering a fresh pair of pyjamas, Akira slowly makes his way to the bathhouse, hoping that no one else would be there to see the state he was in.

* * *

 

The next morning Sojiro makes the executive decision to call into Shujin and excuse Akira’s absence, because when the kid tried to get up and make an excuse for why he hadn’t even budged from his bed that morning, the reason became painfully apparent to Sojiro the second he collapsed back, too weak to even prop himself up on his elbows. The aborted motion left him completely passed out on his bed, face flushed with fever.

He isn’t sure what comes over him all of a sudden, but his heart softens when he sees the boy who is only a couple years older than Futaba looking dead tired in the dusty room. He pulls the blankets up higher when he sees Akira shivering, but leans over him to open the only window in the stuffy room in order to let some fresh air in. On his way out of the cafe, he puts some food out for his charge’s cat and flips the sign to say _closed_ so the kid can rest while Sojiro gets him some medicine.

* * *

 

Akira wakes up hours later to hushed voices in his room. He opens his eyes sluggishly and looks over to the couch only to see Ann and Ryuji sitting next to each other and arguing over something on one of their phones. Ryuji is the first to notice that he’s awake and yells out a cheerful “Akira!” before getting elbowed in the side by Ann for being too noisy.

“Akira, we were so worried!” Ann exclaims, quieter than the boy next to her but just as enthusiastic. “Morgana told us a bit about what happened yesterday. Is it true that your wings are appearing here?”

Akira sits up slowly in response, too tired to answer her verbally. Both of his friends gasp when they see the small wings folded up against his back.

“Whoa,” Ryuji breathes, eyes wide. “they’re like a baby bird’s wings”

“So cute!” Ann agrees, face flushing. She sobers quickly however after taking her friend’s state in. “How do you feel? Morgana said it looked like bad news last night and I’m guessing you’re sick today because of it too.”

Akira takes a minute to reply, looking drowsy. “It doesn’t hurt anymore” his voice is raspy. “I mostly just feel sick right now”

“How’d you hide the wings from Boss?” Ryuji asked, reaching for them. When his fingers got too close instead of feeling the soft feathers his hand went straight through them as if they weren’t there.

“I don’t think everyone can see them. When I was at the bathhouse last night one of the old men from the neighbourhood came in before I had a chance to turn away. He didn’t react at all.”

Ann and Ryuji leaned in, fascinated. How come they could see them, then? Was it like Morgana, where they could see the wings because they had already seen Akira with them in the palace?

“Sojiro didn’t notice either when he came to check up on me this morning. I think I’m the only one who can touch them, too.”

“That’s crazy, man” Ryuji said. “But at least it means you won’t have any trouble hiding them. Ann brought you today’s notes, by the way. We wanted to check in and tell you to heal up so you can be at 100% before we jump back into the palace.”

Akira smiles in thanks and places the notes Ann hands him onto the shelf beside him. He's exhausted, and his eyes burn with the simple effort of keep them open for this conversation. He flops back down onto his bed, and with a final thought of how lucky he is to have people around him to check up on him despite his circumstances, Akira fell asleep to the sound of Ryuji and Ann quietly discussing strategies for using their personas together when they return to the palace.

**Author's Note:**

> Isn’t everyone’s favourite part of a wingfic when the wings forcefully rip out of the poor sap’s back? No? Just me?
> 
> A few headcanons:  
> \- Akira's wings get even bigger and closer to what they look like at their full potential in the metaverse every time he gets a new social link + strengthens an existing one  
> \- The only people who can see them are confidants who know about the metaverse. So when Sojiro finds out, he also starts seeing the wings--probably scares him half to death. (same with Takemi, Shinya, etc)  
> \- The wings don't really interact with inanimate objects either, so Akira can still sleep on his back and stuff. It also means that he doesn't have to worry about ripping holes in his clothes or anything LOL


End file.
